Parallel Path

Only in the relinquished expectations of I-am-leaving-soon, of course, I am able to relax in to where I am and see how this life right now might become a full one. I imagine the parallel path, where I was not choosing to leave in two weeks or even three months, and the steps I would take:

Were I not in half-detachment, I can only imagine the love I'd put in to the studio, the classroom at school I can almost call "mine" these days, by how others defer to my decisions there. They remark: we should find an intern to run the studio next year, a volunteer. It is really a full time job, and they say I do it well. I ache: if I cared to really do my best here, ot would be a beautiful place. An art studio where I have total control of the layout, and the students make whatever they please? I am satisfied with the place the the student's products, but just that. Leaving, I feel this confidence in my ability to do things I am proud of, and as I am commended and faired well at the school, my potential feels like a secret.

In parallel life I might apply to work there, part time. I might stay at my other school, or not.

The neighborhoods I'd live in. The friendships I'd pursue. The places I'd keep buying and finding my groceries, the dance class I'd keep taking, the drawings I'd make, the cafe's I'd try to show them at. This could be a life, here, but it is not the one I am choosing.
I opened all these doors, seven months ago I knew no one here, and now I am closing them. It feels unfull, these people who do not really know me yet, and who I do not know yet, but never will. Frustrations not worth resolving, tensions I fake my way through with pleasantries. I am escaping soon.

Sometimes it feels like a break up: the bad outweighs the good, here, and so it is not worth the effort to mend whats not right. I worry sometimes that I am running away, momentarily, but I know that the things this phase has brought up in me will not dissapear when I leave. That I don't have to stay here to confront them.


I have actually come to the period of conclusion, after so much waiting. boxes laying open in my room to be packed. Everyone I know knows I am going, they look at me and its the first thing they think. endless loops of 'so, soon, eh?" conversations, without meaning to we have all started to detach.